She sneaked the key strokes between
quick cuddles and kisses,
her mistress unknowing she’s second
fiddle at all.
“I’ll meet you in twenty,” she texted.
Forgiveness is something she figured
would fall into place,
like nothing ever did,
but she was living on the edge,
and she couldn’t help but enjoy
the rush and thrill of
doing so much wrong,
because she always did right.
And while she was caught in her
thoughts of excuses she’d find
and the kisses she’d
steal from her lover in due time,
he turned to her and reminded her
of her admired beauty.
She thanked him with the same
lips that spewed the lies
and tucked her silenced phone back
into her pocket,
a twinge of remorse prowling through her veins.